Never Dare a Duke

by Wendy Soliman

  ‘Stop being so ridiculous!’ she chided aloud.

  A good half hour later she heard the sound of wheels on gravel. By getting up and craning her neck she could just glimpse the entrance portico at which two closed carriages awaited the ladies. They emerged from the house in a chattering gaggle and climbed into the conveyances. Farrah noticed that Hazel was amongst them and realised that her friend had not bothered to seek her out that morning. Presumably she was still miffed because Farrah had had the temerity to suggest that Mr Anglesey was a fortune hunter. She sighed, convinced that he was but determined not to interfere in Hazel’s affairs again. Her advice was ignored unless it was what Hazel wanted to hear.

  The house seemed unnaturally quiet now that everyone had left, even though very little noise had penetrated the peaceful oasis of the orangery. She had wanted to be left to her own devices, but now that she’d achieved that ambition Farrah lost interest in her book and became restless. The rain had stopped but a strong wind sent clouds scudding across the sky, fresh and invigorating. The need for clean air and exercise was compelling, but she had promised Brin that she wouldn’t wander outside alone. She bit her lower lip, riven with indecision.

  Actually, she hadn’t promised any such thing. He had asked for her word but they had become distracted and the promise had not been given. If she stuck to the walks in the formal gardens, no harm could possibly come to her. No matter how desperate the assassin might be, he wouldn’t be foolish enough to venture into a part of the grounds where there was nowhere for him to conceal himself, even if he was still on the estate somewhere.

  With her mind made up, she ran up to her room to fetch her pelisse and bonnet and then made her way downstairs again. She had barely inhaled her first lungful of fresh air before a figure fell into step beside her.

  ‘Mr Harlow,’ she said in surprise. ‘Whatever are you doing here?’

  He chuckled. ‘The duke said you’d disobey his orders.’

  She inverted her chin. ‘I am not his to order about.’

  Mr Harlow sent her a shrewd sideways look. ‘You can tell him that if you like. Personally, I wouldn’t dare.’

  It was Farrah’s turn to chuckle as they turned together onto a gravel walkway. ‘I think you are one of the few people in the world who isn’t afraid of his grace and will always speak your mind.’

  ‘You and I are cut from the same cloth, miss. But I reckon I’ve earned the right. Anyway, where were you planning to walk to?’

  ‘I intended to remain on the walks in the formal gardens. Or the cloisters if the rain returns. I am not completely reckless, you know.’

  ‘I have a different destination in mind. If you have nothing better to do, why don’t you come along?’

  Intrigued, Farrah readily agreed and Mr Harlow turned them towards a path that she hadn’t noticed before that led away from the area where the gentlemen were shooting.

  ‘It’s about a mile but I don’t suppose that will bother you.’

  ‘I am not so feeble that I can’t walk a mile,’ she replied, turning her face up to greet the wind, feeling alive and rejuvenated. ‘Where are we going?’

  ‘Patience, miss. You’re see soon enough.’

  ‘You know the duke intimately, don’t you,’ Farrah said after they had walked a little way without feeling the need to break the comfortable silence that had settled between them. ‘I can see that he depends upon you absolutely.’

  ‘I like to think I’ve proved myself worthy of his trust. I’ve been with him since he left that fancy university and set his mind to clearing up the mess that his father left behind. Dreadful spendthrift, so the old duke was, which would be all well and good if he’d had the blunt to spend. But he did not and traded on his title instead, getting himself further and further into debt. His lady mother simply told the new duke to get himself a wealthy wife and the situation would resolve itself but…well, that ain’t his way. So he took himself off to India, determined to make a fortune, which of course he did. I ain’t never known him fail at anything he sets his mind to.’

  ‘Did you go with him?’

  ‘To start with. Someone had to keep him in order and prevent scheming women from fighting over him.’ Mr Harlow chuckled. ‘But after a few years, once he’d started to accrue a fortune, he sent me back here to oversee the renovations. He was specific about what he wanted done and I made it happen.’

  ‘You make it all sound so simple.’

  ‘Well, money and the duke’s name made it easier than it would otherwise have been, I’ll grant you that. Now the lad’s back home and his mother’s trying to run his life for him. She don’t seem to realise yet that he’s very much his own man and will do as he sees fit. Right, here we are.’

  Farrah had been intrigued by Mr Harlow’s account and so only now did she notice the somewhat dilapidated house that they had come upon.

  ‘What is this place?’ she asked.

  ‘The Dower House. It ain’t been used for years and when funds ran out the old duke let it go to ruin. The guv’nor asked me to come and take a look at it and decide what needs to be done to bring it back into a habitable condition.’

  Farrah’s heart sank, despite her best efforts to seem unaffected by the intelligence that the duke had selected a bride. He must have done so if he intended to move his mother in here to make way for a new mistress of Wentworth Abbey. That, presumably, was the bargain he had struck with her. Nothing else would have persuaded the duchess to be polite to her, Farrah decided. So much for Mr Harlow’s assertion that the duke was his own man, she thought with a wry smile.

  ‘It will take a while to put it into good order, I should think,’ she said, glancing up at the sagging roof with weeds growing through the rotted thatch and the crooked chimneys that looked in danger of collapsing. Several of the windows were broken, their frames rotted, and Farrah could hear a door banging in the wind.

  ‘Shall we go inside?’ Mr Harlow extracted a key from a bunch attached to his waist but the door wasn’t locked and swung open on noisy hinges when he pushed at it. He sent Farrah a concerned look. ‘Something ain’t right,’ he said in an urgent tone. ‘I’d best get you back to the house.’

  ‘Nonsense, I…’

  They had stepped into the hallway when Farrah heard a movement behind her. Before she could turn to discover what had caused it, something hard hit the back of her head, sending pain exploding through her skull. With a startled oath, she crumpled to the floor and lost consciousness.

  Chapter Thirteen

  The shoot went ahead, but Brin’s mind was not on the sport and his aim was awry. The dispute with his mother had disgruntled him, but that dispute was not to blame for his inattention. It was concern for Farrah’s safety that dominated his mind. She would be pleased that the birds had nothing to fear from his gun that particular day, but the danger from her perspective was still very real.

  He glanced along the spaced-out line of his guests as guns were raised and another volley of shots rent the air, thinking they were one short. Who was missing?

  Anglesey. Where the devil was he? Had he gone to relieve himself or had he made another assignation with Lady Hazel? Brin failed to see how that could have been achieved, since she was bound to have gone into Exeter with the rest of the ladies. Unless she’d feigned illness and had again recruited Farrah to help her. He wouldn’t put anything past the precocious romp.

  Anglesey’s absence made Brin increasingly uneasy. Had he been missing the entire morning without Brin noticing, or had he slipped away just recently? It was impossible to know and there was no one he could ask; not when the constant barrage of shots made conversation next to impossible. They would be breaking for luncheon soon, and if Anglesey had not reappeared by then he would instigate enquiries.

  One of his grooms came up behind the guns at a run. Brin lowered his weapon and stepped from the line to intercept him, his senses on high alert.

  ‘What is it?’ he demanded crisply.

  ‘Mr Harlow s
ays you’re to come at once, your grace,’ the man said, huffing to catch his breath. ‘Miss Dorset’s been hurt.’

  Brin’s heart lurched, his unease and inability to concentrate upon the sport vindicated for all the wrong reasons. Without asking questions, he thrust his gun at his loader and stepped out of the line.

  ‘Keep everyone occupied,’ he said curtly to Kent, who had stepped back to ask what was wrong.

  Kent nodded, asked no questions and patted Brin’s shoulder. Deeply concerned, Brin strode out with Shadow at his heels, his long legs eating up the ground in his haste to discover what had happened to Farrah. If she had disobeyed him and deliberately made herself a target, he would…would what precisely? She would be quick to point out that she was not his responsibility. Was she even still alive? Fear caused him to quicken an already breakneck pace that left the groom struggling to keep up with him. Brin adjured himself to remain calm as increasingly dire possibilities percolated through his brain. He would soon know.

  He entered the house to be confronted by a grim-faced Walker.

  ‘They are in the orangery, your grace.’

  Brin nodded and barged into that room. Harlow hovered over a pale and unconscious Farrah. He scowled as he crouched beside her and felt for a pulse. He found one, strong and regular.

  ‘What the devil happened?’ he asked.

  ‘Walker warned me that she had plans to leave the house, so I joined her and suggested she come with me to inspect the dower house. Didn’t think there could be any danger in that.’

  Brin grunted. ‘Clearly there was.’

  ‘I found the door unlocked, so I knew something wasn’t right. I said we’d best come straight back to the house. But before we could, I heard someone move behind us. I tried to shout a warning but it was dark, I couldn’t see what was what, and before I could do anything, whoever was there delivered a clout to the back of her head.’

  ‘Did you see who it was?’

  ‘Nah, he scarpered. A tall man is all I can tell you. I didn’t dare leave Miss Dorset in case he came back to finish the job. I did what you just did, checked for a pulse and found one. When she didn’t immediately recover her senses, I figured she must have a concussion so I carried her back here and sent for you.’

  ‘Right.’ Brin was unable to find fault with Harlow’s actions. She should not have been in any danger on a visit to the derelict dower house. ‘Whoever wants to kill her is clearly not easily dissuaded,’ he said, his jaw rigid with tension. ‘Have you sent for the doctor?’

  ‘No, seeing as how her pulse is strong and her breathing regular, I didn’t think it was necessary. I mean, what can he do for her? Besides, I only just got back here a few minutes ago myself. I sent a lad from the stables that I passed on my way here to go and get you. I figured you wouldn’t want to draw attention to this latest strike against your authority by having the quack turn up.’

  Brin nodded, aware that Harlow could always be depended upon to keep his wits about him in times of crisis. ‘Fetch cold water and a towel. Do it yourself. I don’t want word of her condition getting back to the ladies, which it will if their maids hear about it.’

  Harlow did as he’d been asked. Brin crouched beside Farrah and applied a cold compress to her forehead. The contact made her stir and her eyes blinked open. She mumbled something incoherently and closed them again, but Brin had seen enough concussed people to know that she would regain consciousness within a few minutes. He let out the breath he was unaware he’d been holding and felt some of the anxiety drain from his body.

  ‘Go back to the dower house,’ Brin said. ‘Take a couple of men with you and stay alert. See if you can find any evidence of the man. Presumably that’s where he’s been hiding out. Why the devil wasn’t it searched?’

  ‘Couldn’t say, guv’nor.’ Harlow ground his jaw, clearly furious to have let Brin down. ‘But you can be sure that I shall find out before the sun sets.’

  Alone with Farrah, Brin stroked the hair gently away from her face and worried about her unnatural pallor, trying to decide if it was a normal consequence of being knocked senseless or if her injuries were more serious than he realised. Perhaps he should have sent for the doctor. Brin was uncharacteristically unsure of himself. Harlow said the cowardly cove had dealt her a hefty whack. Brin decided to give it a little longer before deciding if professional medical intervention was required. If she regained consciousness then she could tell him how bad she felt and make the decision for him.

  ‘Come along, my lovely,’ he said softly. ‘Come back to me. I cannot bear to see you suffering, especially since it’s all my fault. I should have taken more care to ensure your safety.’ Shadow whined in empathy and flopped down on the rug. Brin took her hand and squeezed her fingers. They were cool to the touch as he ran his own down the length of them. Her breathing was even and regular and her eyelids fluttered at the sound of his voice. Encouraged, he continued to talk to her. ‘Whoever wants to kill you clearly failed to take into account that you have a very hard head. Thank the lord for that! Don’t be seriously injured, my sweet. I couldn’t bear to have you taken away from me now that I’ve finally found you. Open your eyes, damn it! I want to look after you, I want to protect you forever. I have never wanted anything more, and it’s taken a near-tragedy to make me realise it.’

  Her eyes blinked open again and this time she appeared to be able to focus. ‘What…where…?’

  ‘Shush!’ Brin squeezed her hand again. ‘You’re safe. We have you.’

  Shadow pushed his nose beneath their joined hands and wagged his tail. ‘My head hurts,’ she complained groggily.

  ‘Can you sit up?’

  He helped ease her into a sitting position and gently probed the back of her head. Presumably she had been wearing a bonnet, but that was gone, as were most of the pins that had held her hair up. She winced when his fingers made contact with a bump the size of an egg.

  ‘Ouch!’

  ‘It’s all right.’

  ‘That’s easy for you to say,’ she replied, her voice sounding hoarse, tears glistening on her lashes.

  Brin picked up the glass of water that Harlow had left on a small table and held it to her lips. She drank greedily.

  ‘Better? Do you remember what happened?’ he asked, as he held the cold compress to the back of her head and she groaned.

  ‘Of course I remember,’ she mumbled irritably. ‘The dower house. Someone hit me. Not the sort of thing you forget. Where am I? How did I get here?’

  ‘Harlow carried you back to the house and sent for me.’

  ‘I’m sorry.’

  ‘Not your fault, my sweet.’

  Brin could see that the effort to recollect had taken its toll and she was in danger of passing out again. Convinced there was nothing a doctor could do that rest and recuperation would not, he leaned down and swept her into his arms.

  ‘Hey!’

  But the protest was weak and she slumped against him, her head lolling against his shoulder. He carried her through the house, pausing to instruct the hovering Walker to have her maid sent up and to keep the matter confidential. Brin was glad that his mother had relegated her to a wing of the house that was otherwise unoccupied, even though he had been annoyed by the discourtesy when he had first heard of it, since it was less likely curious eyes would see her in her current state.

  He pushed open the door to her room and laid her on her bed, taking a moment to look around him. He didn’t often venture into this part of the house and was satisfied with what he saw. The room was comfortably well-appointed, with a good fire and a pretty view. His mother had unintentionally done her a service, he suspected, since she would probably prefer this chamber to the more formal ones in the main part of the house.

  A wide-eyed maid bustled into the room, looking startled when she found the duke in it with her charge.

  ‘What is your name?’ Brin asked.

  ‘Susan, if it pleases your grace,’ she replied, bobbing a curtsey.

&
nbsp; ‘Miss Dorset took a fall and banged the back of her head,’ Brin told her. ‘She needs to rest and you must not leave her side for a moment. And no one below stairs or anywhere else is to know about this. Your position depends upon it. Do I make myself clear?’

  ‘You can depend upon me, your grace. I’ll make her comfortable and sit beside her, never you worry.’

  ‘Send word to me or Mr Harlow if she takes a turn for the worse.’

  ‘I’ll do that, your grace.’

  Brin could see the frustration on Farrah’s face as she struggled to remain awake. She would have questions. He rolled his eyes. Of course she would. And she would want to be involved in the search for her attacker. But that was out of the question. He’d had qualms about involving her in the first place, even though he’d had little choice in the matter. This time, things would be done his way.

  ‘Behave yourself if you possibly can,’ he said softly, somehow suppressing the overwhelming desire to kiss her. ‘I shall call to see how you are doing later on.’

  ‘But I…’

  ‘Sleep,’ Brin said in a tone that brooked no argument. ‘You will be no good to anyone until you have recovered from your…accident.’ He sent a significant glance towards the hovering maid and Farrah appeared to comprehend his meaning. She didn’t like it very much and huffed. Brin smiled. If she could manage indignation then the recovery process wouldn’t take long.

  Satisfied that no further harm could come to her for the time being, Brin let himself out of her room, closing the door quietly behind him. Free now to give full vent to his anger, he descended the stairs three at a time and strode into his library, slamming the door behind him with a satisfying bang that echoed through the house. Shadow, appearing to pick up on Brin’s uncompromising anger, slunk on his belly towards the rug in front of the fire and feigned sleep.